Page 116 of A Bluestocking’s Secret Courtship

He broke ahead of Wedmore and Margrave, leaping over larger rocks that slowed Farrin. Still, the man was fast and had the advantage of a head start.

Jonathan closed the distance as the ruins soared into the sky, growing larger.

Footsteps pounded behind him. Margrave and Wedmore were on his tail.

A low wall enclosed the ruins, and Farrin scrambled over it, dashing for the shadowy interior of what was once a grand villa or temple. Jonathan planted a hand on the stone wall and hopped over it as Farrin disappeared inside.

“Split up and surround him,” Jonathan called to Margrave and Wedmore while he followed Farrin.

When he entered the ruins, he couldn’t see. He stopped to allow his eyes to adjust and listened. A scrape of a boot against stone drew him deeper into the structure. Vines pushed up through cracks, climbing walls and forming a thick canopy overhead. Farther inside, the ceiling had caved in. Moss grew on the rubble, and shafts of dim sunlight filtered through the overgrowth.

Jonathan’s heart thumped loudly as he eased around a crumbling column, heading toward where he had heard the sound. Margrave and Wedmore would be close, though they moved like fog, quietly creeping through the ruins. Jonathan kept his pistol harnessed. He didn’t want to fire at one of them in reflex, and Farrin was out of ammunition.

A mouse skittered up the wall. Jonathan looked up.

A roar and rush of movement shot from the shadows. He spun as Farrin tried to smash his head with a large rock. He weaved to the side, the rock grazing his shoulder. The momentum knocked Farrin off balance. Jonathan pivoted and drove his boot into Farrin’s lower back. He arched away from the blow, yelling in pain.

Jonathan drew his pistol. “Don’t move.”

Farrin was panting and wincing. Sweat poured down his face. “Aim for…the kidney,” he said between wheezing breaths. “I…taught you…that.”

“You taught me many things a seventeen-year-old boy should never know.” He didn’t take his eyes off Farrin. “All clear!”

Bootfalls echoed off the stone floor. Jonathan didn’t glance behind him. “There’s rope in my saddlebag,” he said to Margrave and Wedmore.

“No, let’s end it here.” The click of Dom setting the hammer on his flintlock sent a chill down Jonathan’s spine.

A grin spread across Farrin’s dirty face, even as he was hunched forward, holding his back.

Jonathan pivoted to see Dom but kept his pistol trained on Farrin. Dom didn’t blink. He was hardened and closed off—unrecognizable.

Jonathan’s mouth felt too dry to speak, but he forced himself. “He’s the traitor. You heard Margrave.”

“Margrave is a bloody liar,” Farrin spat. “His allegiance is to Wedmore.”

Dom slowly walked toward Jonathan and Farrin.

“Please, Dom. You know what he stole from us. We gave him control over our lives, but he played God.”

Farrin bared his teeth. “Don’t be stupid. You cannot take Margrave’s word over mine.”

“Don’t you know me by now,” Dom said. “I think for myself.”

Margrave and Wedmore stepped out of the shadows with their pistols aimed at Dom.

“Lower your weapon,” Margrave barked.

Dom didn’t flinch.

“Don’t let it end this way.” Jonathan took a careful step toward Dom, arms held out at his sides. He held Jonathan’s gaze, his eyes like steel. “Please, Dom.”

His friend blinked and folded his thumb across his palm.

Brotherhood. Jonathan’s breath caught. “Margrave, wait!”

“Don’t be stupid,” Margrave shot back. “Move away.”

Jonathan held his ground.